


woo bastards in love

by catb0y_el1a3



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baking, Idiots in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:54:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29571354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catb0y_el1a3/pseuds/catb0y_el1a3
Summary: they’re bastards in love or maybe more
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood





	woo bastards in love

(3rd person POV) Jesus CHRIST. Peter agreed to work with Mr. Bouchard and guard him, but he wished he hadn't. Martin said that he was a good person, that was suppose to be funny and pleasant to be around, not this fucking nuisance enderman. Honestly, the guy was going to get himself killed with the way his mouth runs, and it might just be by his guard himself. These dark thoughts of just murdering him were surrounding his head. You could practically see the dark clouds, and any normal person would steer FAR away from the phantom hybrid who could crush anyone with his strength and his big and tall stature. It's a shame that the man he was planning to kill isn't scared. "Oi, big guy, keep up would ya?" Bouchard drawled in an exaggerated Brooklyn accent, as if he was irritated. God, if he got his hands on the enderman, he didn't know what he would do to. Growling, Peter sped up his pace, and loomed over him, head down, mood aggravated. "Jeez, you really woke up on the wrong side of the bed, didn't you." Bouchard looked back and cocked his head, a smirk already prominent. "Yeah, and you're making it SOO much better Your Majesty." Peter responds, scowling. "Oh thank you Peter, I'm such a saint aren't I?" Bouchard completely tuned around now, grinning at him in a seeming good nature, ignoring the thick tension between them. "You should turn around Your Majesty, you might trip." Peter growled. "Aren't you the best guard." Bouchard cooed, turning back around. No response. Peter felt it coming. Dear god this was going to be the most difficult season yet. Peter holed up in his isolated house residing in the cold north instead of using his residence that was oh so graciously provided by His Majesty himself. Bouchard was probably losing his shit right now, but not because he cared. A shame. He was just sat reading a relatively nice book, when he heard knocks at the door. “Peter let me in, it’s fucking out here.” Mr Bouchard bitched, obviously not wearing the correct clothes for a biome which usual temperature was fucking -3°. “I don’t know why I try.” Peter sighed then opened the door, and had enough time time to get in as the enderman rushed past him. “Oi I didn’t say you could actually come in.” Peter mumbled the sentence, hoping Bouchard wouldn’t hear. But of fucking course he did. “Aww Lukas you wouldn’t leave me to freeze in the cold would you?” Bouchard pouted, and pretended his feelings were hurt. “Mr Bouchard I told you not to come here. When I’m not in the city, it’s private.” Peter stated, calm mood ruined. “Please call me Elias, we’ve known each other for a long time.” They weren’t on first name basis before, what’s going on? Was this really Mr Bouchar- Elias? “Ok, Elias.” He tries the name on his tongue, and finds he likes it. “It’s 9pm Lukas, have any spare rooms I can use?” Elias queried, looking up at him from the fireplace. “Yes, you can use the other bedroom upstairs.” Peter answered, confused why Elias was here in the first place. “Alright, goodnight then !” Elias cheerfully replied, and he walked up the stairs, probably to sleep as soon as he got near the bed. God knows he has a terrible sleeping schedule, he really should keep a better eye on him. He goes up the stairs too, Elias is right. It’s late and he needs to get up early. (Time skip just a little bit.) It doesn't bother him, really. Except for when it starts affecting him every fucking day! Seriously! Can he have one day where he doesn't catch that name? One day, just one, where he doesn't step outside and wonder how the weather is for his majesty? It seems like everytime he stops to think, his mind drifts back to that place. A place filled with brown hair and piercing grey and purple eyes. The prettiest smile he's ever seen and a laugh that echoes in his mind and he can’t flood it with something else. A horrible, terrible, absolutely miserable place filled with that eloquent British accent and late night calls. He wakes up. His breathing is heavy in the silence of his room. Peter sits up and sighs, glaring at the half closed blinds across his bedroom. The clock on his nightstand reads a glowy 3:27. It's still dark out. He gets up and goes downstairs, knowing if he gets up now, he can’t sleep anymore. That’s when he noticed one of his fucking swords was gone. That little prick Elias probably took it. The door opened, and speak of the devil, the enderman walked through the door. He looked awfully pleased with himself and it took Peter all the strength he had not to punch the smirk off of his face. All Peter can think is how beautiful the man looks. Blood splatters painted across his pale, porcelain skin. It clashed well with the green suit he was wearing. “You had trespassers so I dealt with them.” Elias mumbled, coyness blatant on his face. “I’ve got things to do, but you can go back to bed.” Peter stated, before just snatching the sword out of Elias’s hands. “Also ask before using my things.” Elias glared at him before just walking past him up the stairs. (Time skip again to 9am) Elias stumbled down the stairs, obviously very tired. He just fell in front of the fireplace, rug saving his fall. “Elias if you wanna stay here, you gotta help me with something.” Peter stated, walking over to his boss with a cup of coffee, how he liked it even though it was probably the most unhealthy coffee he has ever made. Elias eagerly drank the cup and looked at Peter. “What do you want me to help you with?” Elias asked, curious. “Just follow me.” Peter mumbled, before dragging him by the hand to the kitchen. “Okay, and, uhh, 180kg of flour... oh shit. Um. Okay, that’s fine. I’ll clean that up later.” “Seriously?” “It’s fine, Peter, everything is fine! Look, most of it made into the bowl. Pass me the eggs? Don’t give me that face, I know how to crack an egg.” “Just making sure...” Elias cracked the egg on the counter and dug his thumb into it to pry it apart. His thumb was covered in yoke but at least he managed to avoid having the egg splatter on the floor like last time. He was feeling quite accomplished “There’s an egg shell in the batter.” Peter restrained himself from informing Elias that things could, and in the past they have, gone worse. “Thanks Captain Obvious. I’ll just— there. See? Got it.” Elias held up a tiny piece of egg shell triumphantly then flicked towards the trashcan. Peter watched it miss the trashcan completely, but Elias returned to the cake batter none the wiser. He sighed and bent down to pick up after his boss, regretting deciding to teach his boss how to cook. This was supposed to be easy. “Let’s see... all we need now is some vanilla.” Peter took his eyes off of Elias in favour of rubbing his temple when Elias grabbed his cooking book with his egg covered hand, leaving gross residue on screen. This proved to be a mistake at the sight that greeted him when he looked back up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Elias —” He manages to snatch the tiny bottle of vanilla extract from his hands, not before he managed to pour at least half of it into the batter. “Elias, christ, how much does the recipe say.” Elias rolled his eyes, Peter was acting like the bottle was a live granade. “Two...three teaspoons?” “So why,” he shook the bottle in the hand, “would you just pour it in?” “I want it to be sweet! Like you?” Elias smiled nervously. “Elias”, Peter might just yank his hair out, “It'll be too strong, we were trying to follow the recipe” “But it’s vanilla.” Christ. “Just... trust me. Now we have to find out how to take out the extra — Oh. That works, I guess.” He watched Elias dip the corner of a napkin into the batter, it immediately soaked up the vanilla extract on top. Huh. By the end of it, Peter’s favourite black jumper was covered in flour but he supposed that was on him. He should’ve known better. They had somehow forgotten to add any baking powder so the cake was far too dense, and the edges were slightly black instead of golden, but at least it weren’t completely burned. Or raw. It tasted a bit too much like flour, but after dousing the whole cake in layers of icing it was hardly noticeable.  
Peter wouldn't mention it though, sat there on the flour covered counter shoulder to shoulder with Elias, eating cake, it was comfortable, far to comfortable to ruin with his complaints. “This was... nice. Thank you Peter.” Elias mumbled, obviously embarrassed that he enjoyed such a mundane activity. “No problem boss, I liked it too. We should do this more often.” Peter admitted, smiling.


End file.
